


Friends & Alibis

by yours_eternally



Category: Motionless in White (Band), Tim Sköld (Musician)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:47:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27166111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yours_eternally/pseuds/yours_eternally
Summary: Tim reaches down, brushing some of his dark hair back and gently cupping his skull, thumb stroking his eyebrow. He frowns, wondering at what point this becomes creepy. Probably the point before he started stroking the hair of his sleeping friend/colleague. And it’s not like he can pretend he’s feeling purely platonic right that second.After a shit soundcheck, Tim's in an equally shitty mood but finding a sleeping Ricky can only help improve it.
Relationships: Ricky "Horror" Olson/Tim Sköld
Comments: 14
Kudos: 13





	Friends & Alibis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thisplace_ishaunted](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisplace_ishaunted/gifts).



> 🎉⭐🎉⭐🎉 Happy Birthday!! 🎉⭐🎉⭐🎉

Tim rubs a hand over his face as he walks down the corridor, letting it drop as he reaches the set of stairs up to the mezzanine. 

It’s not the worst soundcheck he’d ever attended. There were plenty of soundchecks — for example — where he’d been the most sober member of the band despite the fact he’d barely been able to stand. In comparison, an uncooperative synth is not a big fucking deal. However fucking irritating it is. It’s not a problem. He’ll shove Nero on to the fucking stage with his laptop to press the motherfucking space bar for 45 minutes if he has to. 

He opens the door to the green room; wondering why the fucking green room is up on the fucking mezzanine in the fucking first place. Tim takes a breath. It’s possible the synth has left him slightly _vexed_. 

Tim glances around; he’d barely looked at it earlier when he’d dumped his stuff. There’s a pair of couches piled with coats and bags, the blinds are down and there’s a couple of bottles of water on the counter. 

It occurs to Tim that the door was meant to be locked as he takes hold of his several grands worth of laptop, with the only copy of half the new album on the hard drive. Fucking _perfect_. Before he can completely lose his shit, there’s a soft groan behind him. Tim straightens sharply and turns, realising what he’s thought was a pile of coats is actually a person. 

_Oh_. Tim feels his anger soften just slightly. Ricky’s lying on his side. His hood’s pulled up and his chin is snuggled into his hands which are curled up like paws in front of his face. Even asleep he looks exhausted; face pale and slack with a purplish smudges under each eye. Tim smiles to himself — oh yeah, he knows _that_ feeling. 

Tim reaches down, brushing some of his dark hair back and gently cupping his skull, thumb stroking his eyebrow. He frowns, wondering at what point this becomes creepy. Probably the point before he started stroking the hair of his sleeping friend/colleague. And it’s not like he can pretend he’s feeling purely platonic right that second. 

Ricky’s eyelashes flicker and Tim snatches his hands back, quickly pivoting so he’s not looming over where he’s laying. 

‘ _Mm_... Tim?’ Ricky slurs, pushing himself onto an elbow, ‘—what’s, what time is it?’ Ricky blinks at him as Tim grins, checking his phone. 

‘Three,’ he says, dropping to sit amongst the coats on the other couch and crack his laptop. Ricky snorts at him as he rearranges the arm of Chris’ hoodie so it drapes over his shoulder. ‘—go back to sleep,’ he says, watching Ricky yawn. ‘I didn’t mean to wake you.’ 

‘No, it’s cool,’ Ricky says, wriggling himself upright. ‘—I just… need caffeine.’ Tim snorts softly, still smiling. 

‘You okay?’ Ricky asks, pushing his hood back and tucking his hair behind his ears, ‘—you look stressed.’

‘And how would you know how I look stressed?’ Tim asks, amused, as he types in his password. He hopes he can dig out the backups for the tracks that’ve been corrupted by the venue’s _Windows XP_ shit or whatever it is. 

‘You do this like…’ Ricky says, scrunching his nose and pouting his lips. And Tim suddenly feels so _observed_ it’s like a current on his skin. Ricky laughs, relaxing his expression, and Tim realises he must be making a face. ‘—Chris does it better, but that’s what it’s like,’ he says, chuckling. 

‘Fuck off,’ Tim says, getting himself under control enough to speak though his heart is still pounding in his chest. Ricky laughs more. 

‘So why are you stressed?’ Ricky asks, grinning. 

‘I’m not,’ Tim says, eyes on his screen not wanting to look at him, ‘—I’m about to be if I can’t find this fucking thing.’ 

‘Can I help?’ Ricky asks, pulling on his sneakers and peering owlishly at Tim. Tim smirks at him. 

‘ _Sure_ ,’ Tim says, clicking through files with increasing agitation, ‘come here and suck my dick— make me forget about it.’ 

Ricky stands. 

Tim doesn’t look up, expecting he’s sloping off to get a coffee but then four tattooed fingers come to rest on the top of his screen. Tim follows the line of Ricky’s forearm up to his face. Ricky tips his head. 

‘If you want,’ he says but it’s a demand. Tim feels that current again — white hot — across his skin. Tim eyes him like he’s thinking about it, though it’s enough that Ricky asked to set his pulse throbbing. He’s fairly confident he’d turn himself inside out if this dumb kid asked him to. 

Tim closes his laptop. 

‘Go lock the door,’ he says and Ricky frowns at him. 

‘You didn’t lock it?’ he asks, grinning over his shoulder as he crosses the room. 

‘I didn’t come in here to fuck you, darling,’ Tim says and Ricky laughs, coming back to him and settling onto his knees as Tim shuffles forward on the seat. Tim puts a hand in his hair because it seems like they really are doing this. In the middle of the day. At the fucking venue. 

‘What about now?’ Ricky asks, biting his lip as Tim catches his chin. 

‘You’re talking a lot,’ he says, tightening his grip. Ricky eyelashes flicker, softening into Tim’s touch. It’s a bloodrush. Ricky turns his head a little so he can lick Tim’s fingertips. Tim huffs at him, feeling Ricky’s hands on his belt. He pops the button and gets down his zipper, slipping a hand into his underwear before Tim can take a full breath. Tim shifts closer, gathering Ricky’s hair back into his fist. Ricky hums, pulling a little. Tim lifts his hips into his hand, folding forward awkwardly so he can kiss him. It’s messy and almost misses his mouth but Ricky moans, tipping his head up and parting his lips. He sucks Tim’s tongue as he strokes him. 

Tim pushes him back and pushes him down. Ricky goes, unresisting. He angles his head, pink tongue reaching to lick the underside of Tim’s cock. Tim shudders, hand going tight on the back of his neck. _For fuck’s sake_. He can feel Ricky moaning as he takes his cock fully into his mouth. Heat seeps under Tim’s skin, across his chest and up his neck.

Tim cups his skull again as Ricky starts to fuck his mouth down. He flicks his baby blues up to watch Tim, like he’s checking on him or something. And Tim feels like he’s going numb from his extremities inwards until the only thing that feels real is the mouth around his cock. 

‘C’mon,’ he mutters, feeling the flush sprawling down his thighs. Ricky moans, swallowing and squirming, and Tim palms the back of his head, letting the weight of his hand keep him down. Tim digs his nails into his shoulder. He can see Ricky’s got a hand in his jeans and though Tim can’t see it he knows his hand must be fisted around his cock, jerking himself off in time to Tim trusting into his mouth. Tim can feel his pulse beating behind his eyes; Ricky’s going to kill him with this shit. 

Ricky moans around his dick, shifting and pressing until Tim can feel the back of his throat. Tim exhales through his teeth, lifting his hips, rolling them, riding the wave of Ricky’s slick mouth. 

‘Fuck,’ he grunts, fist going tight in the hair at the base of Ricky’s skull. Ricky whining, moaning deep in his chest, eyelashes flickering, hand hot on his thigh even through Tim’s jeans. Tim pushes his hair back, thumb his cheek. Ricky’s flushed — his skin blotchy and burning with it — and his eyes are wet when they meet Tim’s. Tim can feel the current again, so strong he can almost see it; zapping and zig-zagging from every place Ricky’s touching him right to the centre of his chest. 

‘ _—fuck_ ,’ he grits out again, ‘Rick, I’m—’ Ricky hums and takes his cock deeper, hand tight on Tim’s thigh to keep him in place. After a couple more rough thrusts Tim comes, back arching and hands fisting in Ricky’s hair. He moans, then gasps sharply as the orgasm twists him tight. Ricky’s sucking, swallowing, working him with his tongue until Tim’s grip on him softens. 

He pulls off Tim’s cock but doesn’t sit up. He’s tense, curled around his fist with his head still in Tim’s lap. He must be close; Tim can feel him breathing heavily on his thigh, his lips sticking against the skin on his stomach. Tim smooths his hair as he moans softly. 

‘You like how my come tastes that much, huh?’ he murmurs and Ricky moans again, before he lets out a low hiccupping sob. ‘Yeah, c’mon,’ Tim hums, hugging Ricky’s upper body into him, ‘—you gonna come?’ He can feel Ricky’s shoulders shaking as he hiccups again pressing his face into Tim’s hip to muffle the sound. Tim makes shushing, soothing noises without really noticing. He’s still deep in the lovebomb of the orgasm and Ricky’s wet mouth is making his skin tingle. 

Then Ricky’s writhing, back hunching, and he lets out a wet gasp, chipped nails digging into the meat of Tim’s thigh. Ricky shudders hard, fucking himself though it. Tim softens his grip, although Ricky’s still tucked against him panting. 

It takes a moment but Ricky sits up, smudging his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his hoodie. He’s still red eyed and sort of snuffling so Tim leans forward to wipe his thumbs under his eyes. Ricky grunts, but let’s him. 

‘Okay?’ Tim says. Ricky nods, pressing into his hand briefly before he gets up. Tim fixes his clothes watching Ricky wipe both sleeves of his hoodie over his face. It doesn’t do much to improve the mess of snort and salvia on his face. Tim gets up too, putting a hand on his back. Ricky turns and lets Tim hug him. He’s only a little taller and Ricky’s a neat fit; all warm and nuzzling, and pressing up against him. 

‘Hm’ Tim says into his hair, ‘you going sleep some more?’ 

‘I don’t think so,’ Ricky says, stretching as Tim let’s him go. Tim nods, swearing under his breath as he checks his phone and spots a half dozen missed calls. _For fuck’s sake_. Ricky is far too good a distraction. 

‘I've got to get back,’ Tim says, rubbing a hand over his face as his irritation comes flooding right back. Ricky pouts a little that he’s leaving but Tim shakes his head; ‘ —go wash your face and come downstairs, and I’ll get you one of those spicy pumpkin monstrosities you all drink.’ 

‘Okay, sure,’ Ricky says, expression softening. 

‘Go on then,’ Tim says, clicking his tongue to shoo him and Ricky laughs, grabbing his bag as Tim pickings up his laptop and follows him out of the room.

**Author's Note:**

> Mx Haunted, I hope you like! And I hope you had, have and are having a lovely day🎉 and are thriving despite the utter fucking chaos of the world. 
> 
> (also yay for fic on a Friday 🙌 because, friends, it has been a _week_ this week)
> 
> [xyours-eternallyx](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/xyours-eternallyx) on tumblr 🙌


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